


The First

by Nununununu



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (light), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Cassian Andor/Original Character(s) - Freeform, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Slapping, Consensual Sex, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Id Fic, Iddy Iddy Bang Bang 2020, Identity Porn, Impact Play, K-2SO/Original Character(s) - Freeform, M/M, Multiple Background Pairings, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Robot/Human Relationships, Sexual Slavery, Size Kink, Sounding, Strangers to Lovers, Undercover Missions, Wall Sex, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: While Cassian volunteered for this mission, it quickly becomes apparent he's in over his head.He can't honestly complain.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/K-2SO
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61
Collections: Iddy Iddy Bang Bang! 2020





	The First

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Iddy Iddy Bang Bang 2020. If anyone wants a visual for the Viscount OC, think Pedro Pascal (is the character a sort of mashup of some aspects of the Mandalorian and Oberyn Martell? Quite possibly! Why? Just because) XD
> 
> Choose not to warn mostly because it would involve so many tags XD No character death or more than light violence. The tagged kinks are the ones that feature most, but non-tagged ones include things like background tentacles and brief somnophilia. Ranges from a touch of noncon (not K-2/Cassian) to dubcon to consensual sex (your mileage may vary on the dubcon, given the sex slave aspect). Cassian's in his early twenties here. Pure idfic.
> 
> (Category and tags slightly edited for clarity 21.10)

“Take off your clothes,” The Viscount commands.

It’s his first potentially long-term undercover mission. Cassian is a good decade younger than the Viscount, although he’s not so young he looks out of place in this opulent chamber filled with silks and mirrors, and the Viscount’s collection of pretty things. Slaves decorate the large room, propped half-dressed in gauzy gold-embroidered fabrics that reveal more than they conceal or sitting or standing entirely unclothed. There is a lot of gold on display – not just in the décor and the gauzy clothing, but in the jewellery. A woman sports gold piercings in her bare nipples, the small metal bars held together by a chain of glittering precious stones. A slender man displays jewelled bars in his own nipples and several more piercing his scrotum, while a web of golden tattoos made from the Viscount’s crest wreathe his long legs. No few of the slaves wear chastity devices, while over on one wall there is an uncontrovertibly large display of sex-related paraphernalia Cassian was aware at first glance that, however thoroughly he strove to prepare for the mission, the information he was given did not fully cover.

To the left of the wall of sex toys stands an immense four-poster bed. And lounging on the bed, propped up by plush cushions, is the only occupant of the room the briefing Cassian was given did not include – the figure of an Imperial KX droid.

He’s not a KX droid like Cassian’s ever seen. This one is painted a flawless midnight black with gold accents, displaying not the Imperial crest but the Viscount’s crest on his shoulders, and complex blood red patterns upon the back of his hands and wrists. The patterns weave over his chest plate similarly and red licks over the weaponry installed on the droid’s shoulders and forearms as if to draw attention to it.

His optics are burnished gold and fixed directly on Cassian. In his huge hands, he holds a ring of many keys.

“Yes, Viscount,” In the seconds it has taken Cassian to absorb all this, his hands have begun smoothly undoing the buttons of his shirt, knowing better than to hesitate when given an order. He’s dressed simply, in the plain loose clothing given to all slaves after sale at the auction block, which was undergone unclothed. It is not Cassian’s first time today standing naked in front of strangers, therefore, and nor is it the first time in front of an audience. At the auction – a small, private affair of twenty of the planet’s most influential citizens – at least two women occupying the buyers’ couches dipped their hands under their clothing while the auctioneer’s assistants displayed the naked slaves in a number of poses while the auctioneer reeled off useful attributes, while another women fondled her bare breast and three of the men in the audience undid the lacings of their trousers to stroke their cocks with more ease. There had been painted bowls of water for the buyers to rinse their hands or fingers in afterwards, and glass bottles of various lotions and warm soft cloths on low tables within easy reach, set next to alcohol and little cakes.

There are bowls and jugs of water here, too, in the Viscount’s chamber, and a great pool at the heart of it, deep and broad enough that several slaves occasionally slip in from the side to swim. Two women are in the water currently, kissing lazily as a female of an alien race not recognised in the Alliance databanks sits on the edge and strokes their hair with gently undulating tentacles. A massive bearded half-humanoid man crouches nearby them on his knees, jewels hanging from his heavy antlers and his hands bound behind him to his ankles with golden rope, alternating between watching them and Cassian while his thick cock hangs in front of him, red and leaking within a golden cage.

The Viscount is standing with his arms folded; it’s impossible to know his expression, concealed as it is behind a beautifully fashioned mask that covers his entire face, the only thing he wears aside from an extremely fine silk robe barely fastened at the front. His cock, visible beneath the ties, is long and slightly curved, and fastened with a diamond clasp at the head.

Cassian removes the upper half of his plain outfit, the thin slippers the auctioneer placed him in, and goes to take off the trousers.

“Taking too long,” The droid sighs from the bed.

“Must you always be so impatient?” There is humour in the Viscount’s reply, “Some things should be savoured, should they not.” He gestures with his fingertips even so, “But fine, if it will make you happy, you do it.” And so the droid peels himself up from the vast bed, tucking the keys inside an internal compartment.

Cassian holds himself steady as he approaches. The droid is very tall up close and his optics are clear and bright. He yanks Cassian’s thin trousers down to his ankles, kneeling more gracefully than one might expect to do so, and tugs the fabric off Cassian’s feet, tossing the clothes aside altogether to be discreetly collected by one of the many slaves.

“There,” Is the droid’s pronouncement – and gives the head of Cassian’s bared cock a little flick with metal fingers, and rolls his optics when Cassian is hard pressed not to jump, “That wasn’t so difficult, was it.”

“N-no,” Without the Viscount’s expression for guidance, Cassian has to resort to the man’s body language and the bearing of the other slaves. The droid emits an electronic huff as he manoeuvres himself back up off his knees, unfolding his long legs until he is once again towering over Cassian.

“Thank you,” Cassian tries, and gets another optic roll for it, although his instincts tell him that the Viscount, at least, is pleased.

“This way,” That said, the droid takes hold of Cassian’s cock and gently tugs, leaving Cassian with no choice but to follow as he is lead over to the pool. The water is wonderfully warm and, for all he is taut inside with repressed tension he doesn’t allow to translate into his muscles, Cassian feels something inside him relax a little despite himself as the droid guides him into entering the pool up to his thighs.

“Mm, this one is pretty,” The three females are in a tangle of limbs at the pool side now, one with her thumb and fingers buried inside another’s vagina, moving deeper in slick increments. The penetrated woman’s back arches as the female with tentacles closes a rounded sucker over her clit.

“Yes, pretty,” Her gaze is on Cassian even as she further widens her legs.

“Prepare him,” The Viscount is seated now on a low stool, his cock thick with the beginnings of arousal, leaking around the clasp. The slender male slave stands behind him to rub at his shoulders through the robe, while the massive man has been released only to act as the Viscount’s table, a wafer thin glass of dark wine and a delicate plate of petit fours upon a finely wrought tray balanced upon his back.

The Viscount places the food beneath his mask without revealing more than his chin – the skin there golden brown as the rest of him, lightly dappled with stubble of the same shade – and gestures at another slave to bring a tray over to Cassian and the droid. She does, crawling on her knees as she carries it in her hands, her breasts swaying with her movements, the tattoos around her nipples a lighter red than the patterns of the droid’s paint.

“Hmph,” The droid’s simulated snort is displeased, if anything, his movements a little stiffer than before as he enters the water up to his knee joints – does he dislike it? It is safe for his workings and would the Viscount order him to get wet if so?

A metal thumb and finger close around one of Cassian’s nipples and pinch – he prevents a gasp – and the droid nods as if he did.

“Sensitive.”

An assessment rather than a punishment? Cassian is then poked and prodded all over, even more thoroughly than at the auction, and all under the gaze of the Viscount and the other slaves, aside from a couple more involved in each other and the slender male who seems only to have eyes for his master. The tray the female slave proffers contains a jewelled dish of fragrant salve, amongst other items, and the droid dips two of his long fingers in it up to the knuckle, grasps a handful of Cassian’s hair by the nape of his neck with his other hand, and leans him over.

“Feet apart.”

Cassian knows what’s coming. He _knows_ it, but it’s still a shock to feel the coolness of the metal finger the droid slips inside him, pressing unerringly up against his prostate. He feels his cock twitch; the droid pulls out and pushes back in with two.

“Breathe,” The order is prosaic, but quieter than the other remarks the droid has made so far. Given the noise of the penetrated female slave’s protracted orgasm and at least three other people fucking, it’s almost as if it is just for him.

It can’t be. He needs to _focus_. Cursing himself, Cassian wrenches in as steady a breath as he can make it, berating himself for the slip. His cock is hardening, a bodily reaction he might, with some effort, be able to control, were it not for the smooth slickness of those fingers rubbing up and over his prostate again and again until his balls ache with it, the droid’s other hand tugging just hard enough in his hair.

“ _A-ah_ –” The noise shudders out of him regardless of all his efforts at control.

“Hm,” The fingers abruptly withdraw from within Cassian’s ass, leaving him hollow and empty. Then the droid grasps his upper arm to spin him around in the water and, with precisely judged force, slaps his cock.

It doubles Cassian over like a gut punch – partially the pain of it, although it’s nothing close to unbearable; nothing like it could so easily have been had the droid not so clearly and carefully controlled his strength. A hefty dose of arousal, too – it shoots straight through him, his whole body coming alive with it, and his knees sag to the extent he’s mostly kept upright by the droid’s grip on his arm.

“He likes that,” That’s the Viscount, “Esso, do it again.”

“Very well.” Esso – that must be the droid’s designation.

Cassian – Cassian is undercover. He’s supposed to be playing it cool; keeping calm; showing only the reactions necessary for his marks to see. But – But what other reaction can he possibly have? Esso slaps his cock again, metal fingers covering it from root to tip, and the impact jolts all thought out of Cassian’s head.

The droid is so very tall, so broad shouldered, so much bigger than him. His gold optics refocusing visibly as he stares down at Cassian, palm pressing firmly for a moment, motionless against Cassian’s cock, the edge of his thumb just lightly brushing the sensitive skin of Cassian’s inner thigh. Then a third slap, the impact centred on the base of his shaft, the side of the droid’s hand dragging over the sensitive vein under the head.

Cassian’s hard put not to moan.

For all he’d cautioned himself on going into the mission, he had expected the difficulty would be in convincing his body to portray an adequate amount of arousal. He hadn’t judged there would be any likelihood of him becoming honestly close to being overwhelmed.

On future missions, Cassian will know to allow for every possibility. On this, his first undercover experience of its kind, he berates himself sharply for his presumption.

“Turn around again,” This time Esso waits for Cassian to stagger unsteadily around. Then there’s a firm smack to each of his ass cheeks before his feet are nudged apart by one of the droid’s, and Esso bends him over again, before inserting the medium option of the three plugs waiting in readiness on the tray.

Cassian’s loose and slick enough from the droid’s fingers that the plug goes in easily. He still feels every inch. The rounded swell of it presses inexorably up against his prostate, the feel of it seeming to pass straight through him to throb in the base of his cock.

He’s so turned on it hurts.

“There,” Esso does something to the base to make it stay in, then paces around Cassian, strokes his cock almost absently, and picks up a glass of water from the tray. “Here,” He holds it to Cassian’s lips.

Cassian must drink or allow it to spill down his chest. It looks clear, but this doesn’t mean it’s not drugged. He can sense the Viscount’s eyes on him, as just Esso’s gaze is intent upon his.

“Drink,” Esso says calmly, his fingers gliding up the length of Cassian’s cock again and again, teasing touches that never quite resolve into anything.

“Mm,” His stomach twitching, Cassian drinks, concealing his cautiousness, not daring to pause before swallowing. The taste is faintly of citrus. It’s – refreshing.

“Good,” Esso brings his hand up from Cassian’s cock to graze the back of his knuckles over Cassian’s stomach, his chest. He thumbs a nipple before squeezing it as if considering, then addresses the Viscount, “These would be appealing pierced. And the underside of his cock could be tattooed with your crest.”

Cassian –

Cassian has had many an uncomfortable experience with needles, both in official Alliance training and on missions and in Imperial captivity. Esso’s other hand goes around his to take back the glass and he feels, damningly, the droid’s thumb brush over a faint set of scars on his wrist.

Needle marks, indeed; grafted over with synth skin until only the barest impression is left. If the Viscount agrees to have his skin pierced or tattooed now, Cassian will endure it. Piercings heal over; tattoos can be removed.

He’s been injured in many different ways while fighting for the Alliance; either option will be nothing much, regardless of the location.

And yet –

“Paint would also be attractive,” Esso continues seamlessly, “And golden cuffs. On further consideration, perhaps those instead.”

The droid’s thumb brushes over the scars again, as if he is well aware of the relief Cassian cannot afford to feel.

“You _are_ in a fanciful mood,” The Viscount has finished his food and drink and now is balls deep in the slender male slave. Behind the pair, a small woman is fastening the much larger bearded man to a padded bench, while a non-sentient creature that appears a distant cousin to the female alien investigates the cage the man with antlers still wears on his cock, red sucker marks decorating his body. The Viscount tweaks the male slave’s nipples, twisting them until the slender man squeals, then holds his hand out, another slave depositing a slender pair of clamps onto his palm.

“Do whichever you think best,” The Viscount instructs Esso, even as he closes the clamps on the slender man’s nipples, fiddling with them until his chest is hotly flushed, “You’re going to fuck me in a bit, anyway.”

“Of course I am,” Esso is facing Cassian, away from the rest of the room, and so only Cassian sees him roll his optics, a gesture the droid seems to favour.

The fact he does it now –

Cassian knows better than to react, although his mind races. He just obliges as Esso sits him down on a step near the edge of the warm water so it comes up to his lower ribs, opens his mouth to accept the sweetmeat the droid feeds him that bursts sweet and tangy at once on his tongue – Cassian almost feels gratitude for this, which is dangerous, even if it doesn’t immediately appear to contain a drug – and drains another glass of water when offered it.

“You will need to piss soon, if you keep drinking so much,” Esso flicks the head of Cassian’s cock under the water, a sharp impact that makes his belly jolt, “That will be interesting like this.”

So said, he lifts Cassian up onto a higher step so his cock is out of the water, selects a long narrow metal rod from the tray, and squeezes the head of Cassian’s cock until the slit opens further and feeds the rod inside.

“ _Ahhh_ ,” Cassian manages to keep his groan quiet, but only just. He’s never – no one’s ever – The feeling of the metal sliding _inside_ his cock is so intense pin pricks race over his skin. His ass flexes around the plug, “Ah – ah –”

“Shush,” Esso’s optics slide, only just noticeably, in the direction of the Viscount, and panting, Cassian bites down hard on the inside of his lip. It’s a –

As insane as it seems –

It’s a warning, isn’t it.

The slender man is sat playing with his master’s hair, staring in their direction with dislike etched across his face, while the Viscount lies next to him on a bed made from three slaves, while a rounded woman rubs scented oil into his feet and another man feeds him red berries from a small golden plate. On the actual bed, four bodies undulate together while, elsewhere in the room, the female alien whips a grizzled male slave with her tentacles at the same time as a woman with heavy breasts drips candle wax on his cock.

“That’s better,” Esso remarks calmly, and closes a ring around the base of Cassian’s cock, drawing his balls down away from his body after.

Next he picks up a brush.

The soft end of it, swirled around the leaking tip of Cassian’s cock, nudging at the sound, is one of the more difficult things he’s ever had to endure, the feeling of it so good it’s near torturous. Esso thereafter proves himself ambidextrous and amply capable of painting Cassian’s body with the brush in one hand and fucking his cock in tiny increments with the sound with the other, nodding to two other slaves after a couple of minutes of this to hold each of Cassian’s arms to keep him in place.

Damn it, he’s – he’s squirming, isn’t it, and he didn’t even _realise it, kriff_ –

The droid does let go of the sound after a while to concentrate on the painting, bracing his other hand over Cassian’s thighs instead, thus further immobilising him, but as the two other slaves take to playing with Cassian’s nipples each time Esso removes the brush to gather more paint from the pot on the tray, there’s little respite.

“Do you need to piss or come first?” Esso enquires once he has painted intricate patterns on either side of Cassian’s chest and over his stomach, tapping the handle of the brush every so often against the clasp around the base of Cassian’s shaft, each small impact shooting straight into the sound.

“Come,” Cassian gets out and, because the situation calls for it, but also because he _needs_ it, “ _Please_.”

“But have you earned it?” Esso’s gaze is intent, “Perhaps later.” He nods to the two slaves still gripping Cassian’s arms, “Take him out of the water and strap him onto the bench.” Esso drops the paint brush on the tray. “I am going to fuck the Viscount now.”

The man in question appears half asleep on top of his bed of slaves, though he waves a hand as if in acquiescence, obviously alert enough to know what’s being said.

“You will fuck this one in time with the plug,” Esso draws the sound almost all of the way out of Cassian’s cock, swirls it on the way back in, slaps his balls almost companionably when it’s done, “Make sure he watches me; I want to see his reactions. I haven’t finished the painting yet; don’t let him come. Hurt him only if it seems necessary.”

Cassian can’t control the way his breathing goes even more ragged at all this, although he fiercely refuses to grit his teeth.

“We understand,” The pair of slaves beckon to their massive antlered companion, who plucks Cassian up out of the water like he weighs nothing, while Esso hauls the Viscount up out of his human bed, accepts the impressively sized metal cock attachment another slave magnetises in place – Cassian swallows – and holds the still half asleep Viscount on his feet in the centre of the room by means of gripping the man’s elbows.

That done, he flips the silk robe up and fucks into his master in one long stroke that draws the man up onto his toes, the Viscount’s head coming up with a pleasure-filled shout. Cassian’s strapped onto the bench stomach down, his head angled towards Esso and the older man, and has a prime view of the latter’s cock rising swiftly, the diamond clasp undone.

The droid fucks the Viscount into orgasm almost brutally, while the slaves behind Cassian fuck him with the plug, hitting his prostate so irregularly he writhes.

“ _Fuck_ –” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s going to come even so –

Someone shoves his legs wider and smacks his balls.

“Ah!” The yelp jars out of him; he has no hope of holding it back.

“ _Ah_ ,” The Viscount echoes, higher pitched than Cassian has heard him before, his gaze half-lidded through his mask and directly on Cassian.

Esso’s golden optics are equally centred on him.

“ _Ah_ ,” Falls out of Cassian’s mouth in return. Hands knead his back, while the plug is plunged in and out of his ass, still mostly not quite getting his prostate. It’s only this along with another jarring smack to his balls that saves him while Esso fucks the Viscount into coming untouched, the man choking on a wrenching gasp, his gaze having strayed over to the slender slave where the man waits on the immense bed, running one hand through his hair while running a metal toothed comb over his own chest with the other, raising red lines.

“Come here,” The slave murmurs, dropping the comb to hold his hand out to the Viscount when the older man’s finished coming, and Esso pulls out, detaches the cock attachment and tosses it into the pool for another slave to retrieve.

Cassian should _not_ be disappointed the droid is clearly not planning to fuck him with it, but he is, _he is_ –

And then Esso’s stalking over to them, waving off the pair attending Cassian and plucking the plug out of his ass.

“Hah – hah – ah –” Cassian gets to watch that sail into the pool as well, nearly catching an unwary slave in the head. Judging by the low noise Esso makes, this was deliberate. “You seem –” He’s talking before he knows it, voice husky with the arousal and the effort it takes to remain in control, judging the rest of the room sufficiently distracted, “You seem pissed off.”

“Fucking the Viscount,” Esso’s vocabulator is pitched equally low, his tone so dryly sardonic a genuine tiny smile attempts to tug at Cassian’s lips despite everything, “Is always my _favourite_ task.”

Unfastening the bonds, he sits Cassian up and props him on the bench, perhaps in concession to Cassian’s wobbly knees, and reaches an arm out to pick up the brush, removing the ring from Cassian’s cock before painting a sole line up the length of the swollen shaft from base to tip, and removing the sound.

Cassian is beyond words, shuddering.

“It’s all right now,” Esso’s cool fingers close around his cock, leeching some of the worst of the heat, drawing more precome up out of the aching slit. Then he begins jerking Cassian off, a demanding rhythm that Cassian can’t resist in the slightest, pleasure crashing over him as he grabs the droid’s wrists, almost falling off the bench as he yells and comes so hard his vision goes grey.

The last thought that occurs to him before unconsciousness claims him is to wonder, as he has ever since the droid selected the colour, whether it is significant that Esso painted Cassian’s body with the same dark red as on his own chassis.

He certainly shouldn’t hope this is the case.

-*-

Early the next morning, the female alien wakes Cassian by winding a tentacle around his cock and gently rippling against it until he’s uncomfortably hard, while the non-sentient smaller creature fastens its suckers over his nipples.

Esso, a heavy weight next to him on the vast mattress, runs two smooth metal fingers over Cassian’s upper lip.

This last part is almost comforting. Cassian’s opening his mouth before he knows it, drawing those fingertips in, coming properly awake all at once when he hears Esso’s systems kick into higher speed, the first sign of a reaction he’s as yet witnessed from the droid.

No one else is present except for the antlered man snoring in a corner, his head pillowed on an empty bottle.

“Hm,” Bright golden optics consider Cassian as he runs his tongue over the pads of the metal fingers, before hollowing his cheeks and sucking them deeper in, gratified despite himself when Esso’s vocabulator produces a static-laced noise.

“Zarha, leave us,” Esso informs the female alien and her smaller companion – pet? – and Zarha scoops it up, twirling a tentacle idly as she crosses the room to poke at the massive sleeping man instead.

“Good morning,” Cassian manages a little huskily, pulling back to lap at those fingers, conscious of the opening to say something however apparently guileless, and the noise Esso makes this time seems wryly amused. 

“It seems that perhaps it could be,” His arm is long enough that he can reach the cock attachment Cassian has already noted displayed nearby on the wall of toys without rising from the bed. Cassian watches him lock it in place, watches him pick up a vial of lubricant next and drizzle it on, without care for the ludicrously high quality of the Viscount’s sheets, and raises his knee to make room for the droid when Esso shifts on top of him to kneel between his legs.

Like this, Esso’s superior height and weight is only emphasised, the bed creaking beneath them despite the certainty it must have been reinforced to support multiple partners as well as durasteel. Metal hands close gently but implacably around Cassian’s wrists, lifting his hands up to press them into the pillows either side of his head.

“Es– Esso –” Cassian lifts his hips and arches his back, crying out as Esso pushes into him, nowhere near as forcefully as he did the Viscount.

The droid starts fucking him, not ungently but also not giving him time to adjust. Unlike the other slaves with the plug, Esso has already proved his ability to get Cassian’s prostate every time and now is no different. Cassian’s so hard his cock nearly can’t stand up with the weight of it, the head bumping into his stomach, smearing precome there with each thrust. He nearly can’t stand it – the feeling of all that restrained strength above him and the certainty of just how careful Esso is being with him, a metal hand tucking under one of his knees to raise his leg higher, changing the angle until Cassian’s crying out with each breath. He has to lift his legs himself then to wrap his ankles around the droid’s hips, pushing back at the grip on his wrists, needing so badly to touch himself.

Just another moment and he’ll be there, he’s so close he can practically taste it. He just needs needs needs to touch his cock –

Esso stops.

“You are here under false pretences,” His vocabulator is pitched quiet and low, intended only for Cassian’s ears. Zarha, now fucking the bearded man with three of her tentacles as he grapples enthusiastically with the rest, doesn’t look in their direction or otherwise react.

“I don’t know what you mean,” The best tactic, or so Cassian had been instructed, was to pretend ignorance. But with Esso looming above him, holding him down, his body so tight with need even his teeth are aching, he’s certain the droid can hear the lie; can read it in his heartbeat, in the dilation of his eyes.

At least desperate arousal is a good distraction.

“I need,” Cassian writhes against him, “Please – I need you to move. Can’t we speak about whatever it is you want to talk about later and fuck now?”

“You say this as if fucking has any particular meaning to me,” Esso produces an electronic snort and Cassian’s not hurt by this, of course he’s not hurt, even if he had thought that – well.

That Esso wanted it. Maybe even wanted him.

Ridiculous.

He’s here undercover and Esso is the Viscount’s property, just like the man’s other slaves. Just like Cassian is.

“Do you get nothing out of it, then?” Cassian tugs a wrist out from Esso’s grip – a test – hiding his surprised relief when the droid lets him, placing his hand lightly on that black chassis, over the blood red patterns. The metal thrums beneath his palm with the elevated workings of internal systems. He’d heard the droid react to him yesterday, just as he’d paid attention to the way Esso’s fans sped up as he fucks Cassian now.

“Something, perhaps,” His tone considering, Esso draws his hips away before plunging back into Cassian almost hard enough to hurt; certainly hard enough to knock a cry out of him. It’s an entirely deliberate movement, just as it is when he tucks his fingers under Cassian’s calves and guides his legs up to hook over Esso’s shoulders, folding Cassian almost in half.

“ _Ah_ – _ah – ah –”_ That large metal cock can reach even deeper like this; it feels deeper than anything Cassian’s ever taken before. Esso pauses a second time, this time to add lubricant, and Cassian can’t stop making noises when he resumes. He can’t quite get enough air in either, which only adds a sharp edge to his arousal, and he slides his hand up next to sling his arm around Esso’s shoulders.

“No,” Esso grabs his wrist, shoving it back down against the pillow, and Cassian moans without meaning to at all.

“I just – I just wanted –”

“To gain access to the kill switch some organic moron decided should be installed on all KX models?” The droid swivels his hips, rubbing the head of his cock firmly against Cassian’s prostate over and over until Cassian’s own cock jerks and drools precome, his stomach jumping as he pants, “I don’t think so.”

“No – There’s a kill switch? I just wanted – just wanted –” Cassian can’t even say what he _had_ wanted, because it had been a calculated risk, seeing how close he could get to the droid’s neck where he could dig his fingers into the gap at the top of Esso’s chest plate and reach vulnerable wiring. The muscles of his ass clutch at Esso’s cock as the droid changes his rhythm, fucking Cassian in short blunt thrusts, “D-does _this_ do anything for you?”

“I don’t know why you’re so interested in what _I_ get out of it,” Transferring his weight onto one arm, Esso strokes long cool fingers down the flush colouring Cassian’s chest before wrapping them around his straining cock.

Gripping Cassian firmly like that, he begins jerking him off, matching the snap of his hips. Cassian only has time to drag in a shuddering breath, before those thrusts deepen as before and once more speed up.

“ _Esso_ ,” He spasms when the pad of a metal thumb raps the head of his cock firmly, just as Esso grinds into his prostate again.

“I think you should come now,” Esso raps Cassian like that there again, and again – on the glans, on the frenulum, digging slightly into his slit, before closing his whole huge hand over the head and squeezing just enough for Cassian to experience a burst of genuine alarm.

The droid’s hand abruptly _vibrates_.

The sound that’s punched out of Cassian along with his orgasm is far too close to a scream for his liking. Esso keeps his hand in place, keeps pushing the head of his metal cock into Cassian’s prostate and now – now that’s vibrating too, isn’t it.

“ _Ahhh – ahhh –_ ” Cassian comes and comes, spluttering, tears springing to his eyes with the force of his orgasm, and Esso holds him there like that while he near shakes himself apart.

There’s clapping when he regains awareness, ringing out around the opulent room.

“A decent show, Esso; well done,” The Viscount is standing close to the bed, half a dozen of his retinue of slaves clinging to each other and his shoulders. Just when had they arrived?

Cassian had lost his situational awareness entirely.

“Get him cleaned up and caged.” The older man ushers the other slaves into a flurry of activity, although he still addresses his droid, “We will breakfast on the beach, and then it’s a fine day to distribute some largesse.”

Esso is motionless on top of Cassian, the press of his fingers around Cassian’s softening cock not tight enough for pain, but enough to indicate tension Cassian doubts is discernible to anyone else. The way the droid’s holding himself seems very careful, some mechanism turning over within his chassis like an internal shudder. 

“Understood,” His gaze unreadable on Cassian’s face, Esso says.

He’s so clearly sentient, it’s never occurred to Cassian that he might be anything else and, in more ways than anyone else in this room given his synthetic nature, a slave. But now is the first time that Cassian allows himself to wonder what, if Esso had the choice and opportunity to escape this existence, he would choose.

Would he leave? Would he _want_ to?

It’s ridiculous to want to offer the droid the chance to come with him, when Cassian has completed his mission. It’s ridiculous –

But.

-*-

Once he’s led Cassian – again by the cock – over to the pool and washed him in the clean water spilling out from the fountain at the centre, the water ever renewing, Esso contemplates the paint – waterproof and without smudging from their activities – painting additional circles around the head of Cassian’s limp cock, before beckoning a male Togruta Cassian hasn’t seen before to pass him a long jar and a curved rod.

Refreshed as he is from the cleaning, Cassian nonetheless feels a certain amount of trepidation looking at the latter. After yesterday, he can well guess what that is.

“Piss,” Esso instructs after positioning Cassian’s cock in the jar.

“I can do that myself,” Cassian can only object, although the Viscount is there, being fed sweet morsels by the antlered man and a couple of female slaves, while resting his feet upon the slender male’s lap and massaging the man’s cock and balls with his toes.

“I don’t care if you can,” Esso shrugs and removes the jar briefly to tug sharply at Cassian’s balls, making him suck in a gasp. His cock is popped back into the jar, “Piss.”

“Fine,” Looking away, Cassian does. It’s admittedly a relief, as is the fact the droid just rolls his optics in his peripheral vision, wipes the tip of his cock prosaically with a soft clean cloth and then hands both cloth and the jar off to a nearby slave to dispose of elsewhere.

Cassian’s urethra stings a little as Esso feeds the curved sound inside, like he’d known he would. Esso goes further though, looping a length of fine golden rope around Cassian’s balls to divide them and keep them down away from his body, and he has to repress a grunt when the droid next attaches a pretty jewelled pendant that acts as an effective weight.

“Pleasing,” Is Esso’s assessment, tapping at the pendant so it sways. He winds the rope multiple times around Cassian’s cock until just the tip is visible, then attaches a clasp under the head. There is a hook on that clasp.

“ _Oh_ ,” Cassian’s breath catches as Esso clips on a jewelled leash, then makes a contemplative sound, optics scanning his body up and down as if assessing him, fastening a golden clamp onto each of his nipples. A tear-shaped diamond drips from each one.

“Better,” Esso knocks his legs apart, compels him into stooping over so his asshole and bound balls are on display, and pinches at the vulnerable skin at his perineum to attach a final little clamp there as well.

“ _Fuck_ ,” This is a muted a whisper, as much as Cassian dares. His entire body is singing. His cock can’t get hard because of the ropes and the sound, but it aches and throbs.

All this before breakfast.

Around them the other slaves are sliding on the gauzy slips of fabric that seem to be all they wear as clothes, plus little jewelled slippers perhaps for the beach. The Viscount is having his own cock enthusiastically licked by the slender male before the diamond clasp is screwed in place, closing the foreskin over the head. His cock is then fed into an internally spiked black sheathe – the protrusions firm enough to be uncomfortable, given the man’s grunt.

“You can torture me more later, Daron,” He grabs the slender male’s own rigid cock, pulling it hard enough Daron squawks and comes rushing in against him, then pulls up his mask just enough to bite at the man’s chin, “Right, off we go.”

A number of keys to chastity devices are given to Esso, who places them back on the ring he tucks away just as he previously did.

“Drink this,” While the other slaves file out of the room after the Viscount, the droid holds a steaming cup to Cassian’s lips – darkly rich caf with a nutty aftertaste – and watches Cassian until he sips.

He would pretend to drink more than he actually does, but under such intent observation it’s impossible. And the drink is delicious, even despite the possibility of it being drugged; he feels another burst of gratitude towards Esso and curses himself for it.

“You have expended more energy so far than is advisable on an empty stomach,” The droid next hands Cassian a delicate twist of pastry stuffed with nuts and chocolate, far more indulgent than Cassian would ever normally eat.

And so Cassian ends up trailing after the rest of the group through the statue-lined corridors of the Viscount’s sprawling mansion, Esso leading him by his bound and leashed cock while he nibbles the admittedly excellent pastry and has no recourse but to lick his fingers clean.

A whir of fans increasing in speed catches his attention and Cassian realises Esso has fallen back a step to walk alongside him, golden optics trained on Cassian’s hands – or, more precisely, his tongue.

“Hm?” Glancing up at the droid through his lashes, Cassian quite deliberately licks his thumb.

“Hmph,” Simulating a sniff, Esso plucks at one of the clamps on Cassian’s nipples at the same time as he gives the leash a tug, before stalking ahead, “Hurry up.”

As he hastens to catch up with the droid before the pull of the leash on his cock becomes unbearable, Cassian finds his mouth tempted to quirk in a tiny smirk.

“How did you come to be here, anyway?” He asks deliberately guilelessly, as if any such question could be truly artless, and receives a sharp glance for it.

“How does any droid come to be enslaved by an organic?” Is the answer.

“Yes, but –” Cassian catches himself. This is _dangerous_ , it’s a stupid risk, but the Viscount and his entourage have turned a corner and for the moment it’s just him and Esso in the corridor. He lowers his voice to a murmur, “You don’t want to be here, do you.”

Esso turns on him so fast Cassian barely tracks the movement, his shoulders hitting the wall hard as he’s shoved into it, a metal arm braced against his throat. He chokes a little, but there’s not the pressure there he’s expects, the droid looming over him, but –

Esso could have killed him with far less effort. Instead he just looms over Cassian, durasteel fingers moving to dig into the man’s shoulders with the precise strength needed to only bruise when they could instead so easily break bone.

“Where the _fuck_ do you think I’d rather be?” Those golden optics pierce into him, a fuzz of static disrupting the droid’s voice, Esso more emotional than Cassian’s yet seen, “Enslaved by the Empire or melted down for parts? My chassis ripped open for the wiring by scavengers in the Outer rim, perhaps? Playing at resistance with the so-called Rebellion, while watched with scorn and distrust at every move because of my Imperial origins? Hiding my sentience because it _upsets_ people?”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” Cassian manages, and he is, he’s so damn sorry, but he also feels a stab of fury on Esso’s behalf, “Esso –”

“I control the majority of my own programming here,” Esso’s hands slip up from Cassian’s shoulders to cradle his jaw, long fingers pushing into his hair, guiding him into raising his head to expose his throat, “Yes, I am bound to the Viscount – to an extent. But if you think any other ‘master’ would treat me with more tolerance or leniency, then you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”

For all Cassian hides his wince, he’s certain the droid sees it anyway.

“And if _you’re_ offering to ‘take me on’ as your ‘servant’ or bed slave or _whatever_ when you leave after the completion of your true objective here,” Those fingers tighten in his hair to the point of pain, “Then you can go fuck yourself. Fucking the Viscount and whoever he chooses is a small price to pay for the freedom – limited as it is – that I have here and I _choose_ to remain.”

“I don’t want you as my _servant_ ,” Hands coming up to grasp at that unmoving arm, Cassian struggles just a little with how unthinkable the notion is, “I just thought –”

A choice. Esso _had_ chosen, as he’d just said. But what kind of choice was that – slavery or death?

“I’m sorry,” Licking his lips, Cassian drops his gaze. His bound cock is _throbbing_ , which is immensely distracting, but he’s also –

He’s also ashamed. The feeling of it burns in his chest along with helplessness, harder than it has done in some time.

“Why would you _care_ , anyway?” Something in the droid – not _softens_ , but eases a little, those fingers loosening their grip slightly, Esso’s stance becoming less aggressive. He’s still looming, but – “You _do_ care, don’t you.” The full force of his attention is electrifying; lenses whir in his optics as he refocuses, a hum of advanced machinery speeding into greater life starting up in his chassis.

He’s examining Cassian as if he’s never seen him before.

“You care so badly, despite yourself,” The droid’s voice is calm now, dispassionate. Somehow this is significantly worse. “You infiltrated the Viscount’s inner circle on your own agenda, very likely on the behalf of the Alliance, given their desperation for the funds they believe the Viscount could provide. I could have saved you the trouble; the man has no interest in anything other than fucking. Hurt his people or property –” This too is a clear warning, “And he will destroy you. Anything else –” A shrug and then a metal hand leaves Cassian hair to slide under his leg to cup his ass, “ _This_ is not going to persuade him.” The fingers of the droid’s other hand draw down to trace his lips, “And nor will _these_.”

Cassian’s heart is hammering. Esso’s not right, not exactly, but –

“ _You’re_ the one I want to persuade,” It’s a whisper. And while it’s not an admission, it also is, and he _is_ an idiot, he’s so stupid, but – but –

“You can try if you wish,” Esso’s vents spill excess heat, the droid’s fans picking up when Cassian dares to mouth at those smooth cool metal fingertips, licking at one before drawing it into his mouth, his gaze on the droid’s faceplate, “Although, as I have already informed you, you won’t succeed.”

“That depends on what I’m trying for,” Cassian lets his eyes go half-lidded, lets himself sink against the wall and onto that hand still cupping his ass as he sucks Esso in that bit deeper, rubbing his tongue up against the underside of that finger, dragging in a heavy breath through his nose, his cock twitching within its bindings as the droid’s vocabulator crackles.

“Oh, that’s –” His gaze latched on Cassian’s mouth, Esso pushes his finger in deeper again over Cassian’s tongue.

At the same time, he tugs just lightly at the leash.

“ _Hah_ ,” His stomach jerking, Cassian’s dragged up onto his toes by the feel of it. _Damn_ , but he needs to get hard, he needs –

His cock aches around the curved sound; he chokes himself a little on Esso’s finger, clutching at the droid unintentionally, gasping when Esso very deliberately tugs again at the leash.

_Harder_ , Cassian thinks but doesn’t say; sucks more fervently at that metal finger instead, groaning when Esso hums contemplatively and pushes a second one in.

“That really does feel quite – interesting,” The tilt of his head is almost quizzical, his optics alternating between Cassian’s eyes, mouth and cock. Flicking the leash so the pendant weighing down Cassian’s balls sways jolts a moan out of Cassian and also the droid. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Cassian echoes around those fingers. He wants to smooth his hands up those long arms and dip his own fingers into the gaps in that gorgeous plating; wants to pluck at wires and manipulate the hardware beneath Esso’s chassis – not to harm or to try to control, but to bring pleasure – even more pleasure than he’s _sure_ the droid’s feeling –

“Right, up you come,” By the simple fact of lifting his hand on Cassian’s ass, Esso draws him up higher, Cassian winding one ankle around the droid’s back and then the other, thighs gripping Esso’s pelvic cradle, his shoulders braced against the wall, thus freeing up the metal hand not in his mouth to go wandering about his body.

Esso thumbs at a nipple, fiddles with the clamp there until Cassian hisses, brushes at his balls and flicks at the clamp on his perineum until he’s moaning loudly around the fingers almost halfway down his throat, Esso letting out an electronic moan of his own when Cassian swallows around them.

“There’s something about you,” He sounds almost offended by his own reactions as his fans leap into even higher speed, craning his head down as if drinking in every expression to cross Cassian’s face as he removes the clamp on his perineum, and then plucks at the golden rope binding his cock enough to draw out the curved sound.

It hurts, he gets hard so quickly in the wake of its removal it _hurts_ , especially with the rope still binding it and his balls, but –

“Shush,” Esso soothes him, Cassian startling as he realises he’s close to sobbing, and then Esso’s sliding two of those long cool fingers inside him, the position such that Cassian feels every millimetre of the stretch, the feel of them mirrored by the ones in his mouth.

“Uh – uh –” He’s never felt so out of control, never felt so undone. And then Esso’s withdrawing his fingers from both Cassian’s mouth and his ass to open the latch to the pendant, removing the weight, loosening the ropes further, before pushing back into his hole again in one deep thrust.

“Fuck – _fuck_ –” Cassian can only lick and suck at the droid’s other hand desperately, pressing hot kisses to the fingers no longer in his mouth, kissing Esso’s palm, attentive to the way something in Esso’s chassis has started rattling, the droid exclaiming with his own loss of control, his own need –

“You – you – really –” Esso gets out, fingers pressing up against Cassian’s prostate, revving tiny motors in them until Cassian’s sobbing wholeheartedly, rocking down on them, bracing his legs around the droid so he can fuck himself on Esso’s hand. “You really are quite something, aren’t you.”

There’s curiosity and something almost like – like _wonder_ and _interest_ in the droid’s voice, his vocabulator glitching, little hitches to the words that almost sound like echoing sobs.

“ _So are – s-so are you_ ,” Cassian can’t help but cry out in protest when Esso takes his other hand gently away from his mouth, craning his head in the attempt to reach after it, his whole body jerking when the droid pulls almost _too_ hard at his cock.

The shock of pain when he doesn’t expect it is almost too much for him; he yells.

“Again –! Please – please – again, oh –” He’s not even aware of begging, although he does hear Esso snort as if in fairly light-hearted amusement, but –

“ _H-hah_ – _! Yes!_ ”

Esso tugs at his cock again and then again, like he’s trying to drag Cassian’s orgasm out of him by force, fingers deep in the man’s ass vibrating harder against his prostate, pulsing in a steady rhythm until Cassian’s thighs tremble, his toes curling, and he _knows_ how careful Esso is being to hurt him without actually _hurting_ him, a fine line between pain that brings pleasure but doesn’t topple over into _too much_ –

It’s this feeling – this impossible, improbable feeling of care, of being _cared for_ , that drags Cassian over the edge in the end, leaving him wrung out and shaking harder than he has in a long time, and –

Kriff, he really is crying, isn’t he; something he hasn’t done for years and years. Damn it all to –

“ _Fuck_.”

“It was too much?” He’s let down from the wall, drawn in against that metal chassis, those wonderful hands going back in his hair.

“ _No_ ,” Shaking his head fiercely even as he wipes harshly at his face, Cassian clings to him, “No. No, it was –”

The best sex of his life, easily. Although Esso didn’t –

“Please,” Whispering, he reaches for one of the droid’s hands. Can’t quite look him in the optics, given how completely unravelled he is and the fact he’d completely forgotten the fact he’s _undercover and on a mission and supposed to be playing a role_ , although Esso knows, doesn’t he, or at least knows mostly.

Yet hasn’t betrayed him, hasn’t said a thing to the Viscount or anyone else that Cassian is aware of, but has instead essentially watched out for him.

That’s not why Cassian – why Cassian feels for him, _has_ feelings for him – or could have, quite easily. But still. There’s – there’s definitely something about the droid, just like Esso said about him.

“Please let me make you come,” Dragging himself together, Cassian darts a glance up at him. He can’t imagine he’s an appealing sight, in honesty, no doubt flushed and blotchy from crying, but golden optics meet his immediately and Cassian can’t see any aversion there.

Instead Esso cups his cheek.

“It was not my intention to push you past your limits,” His vocabulator is pitched lowly, almost gently.

“You didn’t,” Cassian assures him even though it’s not quite true, and gets a huff and a roll of those optics in return.

“Clearly not,” Esso huffs. Then he’s tracing Cassian’s lips lightly with a fingertip, his attention on them for a moment as the tenderness of the touch rocks through Cassian, stirring emotions inside him he hasn’t felt for a long time. Hasn’t let himself feel.

“My actual designation,” Esso tells him quietly, looking back up to make eye contact, “Is K-2SO. But when it’s just the two of us, you can call me K-2 or K.”

“K?” Cassian tries, biting his lip, and can’t think of it anything other than a name, “ _Kay_.” He presses a kiss to that finger, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re an idiot, but for some reason I seem to like you anyway,” Kay tips his head on an electronic sigh that doesn’t come across as anything other than fond. He taps Cassian’s cheek lightly with his other fingers for a moment before gliding his first finger back inside Cassian’s mouth, his vocabulator dropping very low, “I am here under orders, but not those of the Viscount’s. If you can be relied upon to undo a certain snarl in my programming and nothing else, I will consider telling you more in return for details about that mission of your own.” He presses the pad of his finger against Cassian’s tongue to prevent him from replying quite yet, “I have yet to decide whether to trust you or not.”

Cassian is too well trained to glance up and down the corridor, but his heart resumes racing, as does his mind. Kay –

Surely Cassian would have heard about it if the Rebellion had an ex-Imperial droid working for them; surely Kay wouldn’t be wasted on this kind of mission.

Then again, Draven had sent _him_ on it, but Cassian’s well aware he possesses quite a different skill set. And besides, he’d volunteered.

“I lied earlier,” Kay helpfully provides, sounding more cheerful than Cassian’s ever heard him. He’s also leaning back in towards Cassian’s, fans revving back up to a higher speed when Cassian gets back to work.

“Hm?” Cassian runs his tongue over that finger, guides two more in, wraps his other hand around the droid’s wrist to run his thumb over the sensor-laden palm, smirking just a little at the sound of it when Kay’s processor hitches. “When you said you were stuck here or that you didn’t get anything out of this?”

“I didn’t say I was _stuck_ here,” Kay snorts. He also angles himself in that much closer again, plucks Cassian’s hand away from his wrist and transfers it down to the joint at his hip.

“May I?” Cassian brushes over a gap in Kay’s plating, delighted when the droid nods. Angling his fingers in to graze over the wiring he finds there, he thrills at the way Kay’s vocabulator glitches all over again and his optics flicker.

“Oh – that really feels very good,” His large hand closing over Cassian’s own hip in return, Kay angles himself back until he’s lying on the floor, pulling Cassian up onto his knees over him.

“Mm?” Cassian can’t do anything about the smirk that pulls at the corner of his lips, even as he bites his lip to control the fact it wants to become a grin, “Are you sure we’re not going to be missed?”

It’s a valid concern. Really, he should have thought of it a long time earlier.

Well – he _did_ think of it, but he also shouldn’t have then promptly discarded the thought. This isn’t an attitude Cassian would usually even consider, let alone condone, but –

“I’ll just tell the Viscount I was fucking you in the corridor,” Kay shrugs, so Cassian slides his fingers in deeper until he finds a sensor that makes the droid yelp, draws Kay’s own long metal ones back into his mouth, working at those two places until Kay’s systems are working harder and harder and then come to a sudden stop, Kay letting out a near startled sound of pleasure, his hand tightening on Cassian’s hip delightfully, Cassian grinding his hardening cock against the droid’s thigh a little.

He keeps his gaze on Kay’s faceplate until those golden optics flicker back on again, and the sound of systems starting back up undeniably makes him slump in relief.

“That was – Was that all right?” Cassian can’t help but feel that he should have done more. Can’t help but _want_ to do more. He wants –

He barely even knows Kay in honesty, but he already wants him so much –

“It was reasonably adequate,” Kay pronounces, but then breaks into an almost startled huff of electronic laughter when Cassian unintentionally stiffens, pulling the man gently in against him, “No, truly, it was very good.”

“Only very good?” Although he melts against the droid, Cassian still chews the inside of his cheek.

“Oh, I’m sure I can teach you to do better,” Kay runs his fingers back through Cassian’s hair again, Cassian arching into it a little and closing his eyes, “Although we really should go on down to the beach.” He cups Cassian’s half-hard cock with his other hand, drawing a gasp out of him as he rubs his thumb over the slit, “After I’ve put the sound back in and bound this back up again, of course.”

Laughing a little despite himself, Cassian shivers and groans.

_Fin._


End file.
